Experiments - Erikar
by the.hopeless.prince
Summary: Humanstuck: Eridan is straight. Of course. So why does Karkat's voice drag his heart down into a swirling mess of gayness. I can't write descriptions but I can promise the actual thing is better.
1. Chapter 1

Eridan Ampora is a mess. A boy on the constant brink of tears, his brow permanently furrowed and his tongue pressed to the top of his mouth, a habit picked up from his brother to prevent the tears that fill his existence and threaten to spill. He'd trained himself to be strong, to mask his insecurities with a false cage of superiority. Teaching his mind it's better to feel this aching, restless numbness than to leave it vulnerable.

Yet he cries. You watch him, his mouth open, retching on the pain he keeps suppressed and you, Karkat Vantas, a torn peice of art, realize that you've fallen for another broken puzzle peice, too frayed to fit with any other. But you convince yourself that it doesn't matter, that the tears in your corners will somehow aligne and you'll fit. Deep down, of course, you know Eridan's straight and even if he wasn't, the mismatched pieces would crush against each other ending in more pain.

Holding him hurts in itself, his body, once seeming so strong, now a trembling, fragile mess. You don't ask what's wrong, it's obvious that he'll tell you if he needs. No, you'd rather hold him that use a million words that amount to nothing.

There's a dull noise that penetrates the soft sound of his sobs and you close your eyes, picturing the ornate clock you know the sound stems from. It looks out of place amongst the woven blue rugs and various trinkets scattered across every surface; Eridan claims that his Dad brings them back from the places he's always traveling to, and yet you feels as though it fits Eridan, this mismatched haven you love. It only really figures now that the reason you love it it because it reminds you of him. You let your mind travel to all the things he's told you, all the pointless facts your mind grasps at.

You guess the white noise of the clock and your own stupid thoughts lulled the mess of your mind to sleep as when you opened your eyes again, the sky was shades darker. "Shit." you muttered. It wasn't like you were scared of the dark, but no one would want to be around the kind of areas you live in this lighting. Chewing on a loose bit of skin on your index finger, you considered your options. You could walk home now, accepting the possibility of some sort of attack or you could stay at Eridan's. Eridan wouldn't mind, you're sure of that much - of course your brother would be pissed but you decide he can suck it, a peaceful moment close to Eridan is worth a life time of lectures. You text anyway, telling him you're staying at a friend's though not specifying which, fully aware he doesn't like the Amporas; you know he'll ask but you decide to cross that bridge when you come to it. You decide you should check with Eridan despite your certainty of his acceptance, turning around to tap him on the shoulder. It didn't occur to you that he might be asleep, that his mind might have abandoned his insecurity, his stupid strength and jerky facade. In sleep, his face is the epitome of purity, untouched by bitterness and hate. His beauty strikes you, a sharp blow of realisation; whilst you often find yourself staring, you've never been able to examine him this closely before, never truly been able to gaze at what can't be yours. It's almost painful. You feel guilty, although you don't know of what, all you do know is that your heart plans to escape your chest, leaving you, a helpless fool in an undeserving puddle at his feet.

Silently, you take his _glasses_ off, it's a small, excusable gesture yet it seems to quicken your heartbeat. You don't want to wake him, to disturb these beautifully peacefully features that are so rarely this calm. Instead you tug his blanket out from underneath him, placing it over the two of you. It feels as though you're magnetized to him, trying in vain to keep yourself away when you want to be wrapped in his arms. Sighing at your gay thoughts, you force yourself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

There's a warmth next to Eridan when he wakes up a little too late to be night yet too early to be morning. He usually woke up cold, yet warm enough for the icy breeze that circulates his spacious room to only just be uncomfortable. Today he woke up, Karkat curled up close to him, a small ball of burning heat. Eridan couldn't help but smile. He'd tried to keep these feelings platonic but he was deeply emotional and his feelings seemed to plummet at the worst of times. As they had recently and he'd wound up breaking down.

God, he'd do anything to get rid of his emotions, if he was poetical, he'd have died ripping his heart out. But he wasn't, and although he'd write the occasional shitty peice of romantic waffle, he'd accepted that he only had his brain to blame for these feelings that tore him up. A disruption of the covers brought him out of his thoughts as his friend gathered what little covers Eridan had up into a ball, hugging them to his chest. "Fucking wow," he muttered softly to himself, ignoring the smile that grew on his face. It was the same way Eridan slept, just yearning for someone to hold and he smiled even as he shivered his way to sleep.

It's disorientating for you to wake up in a room that isn't your own, the watery morning Sun providing little to no heat. You thank God for the blanket surrounding you, curling up amongst it before noticing Eridan. Despite his claims of not feeling cold, he's huddled up and you note, a little guiltily, that he's blanketless. You don't share though and you sigh, poking your arm out and prodding his arm a few times until he groggily mumbles a few words, opening his eyes a little before tugging the duvet away from you, completely submerging himself in it. It's pathetic really, how even this to you is amazing.

Squinting, you check your phone, scowling at your brother's excessive amount of messages. 'KEEP YOUR MAN TITS IN YOUR UGLY SWEATER' You reply; you phone won't turn off caps, due to the fact it's a peice of shit. That and you keep dropping it. You don't really mind though, it's not like it doesn't match your tone. Kankri's texts are too long for you to bother reading; you're given the impression he feels as though it's 'irresponsible' for you to not tell him where you are.

Eridan's moving now and you try not to look at the small duvet heap that you know contains him. Instead, you study your hands, they're small and pale, slightly grazed and bruised; the purple and green forming patterns like watercolour bleeding out on thick paper. It's almost beautiful - as beautiful as any part of you could ever be. You usually try not to dwell to hard on this bitter self hatred that you often feel threatening to consume you. Especially not in front of Eridan. Eridan. You glance up and end up stuck in his eyes, his pools of deep hazel that seem to shift, so beautiful it's almost painful. He's using these eyes to stare past your armour, removing all protection and staring into your most hurtful thoughts. With anyone else you'd push them away or burst into tears. Not with Eridan though, with him you stare back, studying the slight curve of his nose and his dipped cubids now. Time stops nattering to you here in the watery morning sun; if all the clocks stopped you'd be content to stare forever.

Eventually he interrupts the silence - this angel faced boy that holds your heart- all he says is your name, shortened to match his usual way of talking, given value by his accent. (You don't know where it's from, he claims it's a blend, a mix of all the exotic places he's been dragged to by his Dad). Your mind, being stuck on his voice, forgets to respond and you stare like an idiot before jumping "Oh, yeah," you stutter, cursing yourself. His face has changed though, a brief movement behind his eyes showing a change in plan; the mood required for this confession that once swirled past the two of you now having faded as it came. You can almost see the cogs in his head turning for an excuse for the disruption. Shaking his head as if fighting away a thought he responds, a false smile on his fa ce.

"I was wondering if you had any plans for today?" He phrases this as a question, blinking slowly in a way that makes you die inside. His lashes are longer than anyone's you know, but this time you try not to stare gormlessly.

"Kankri seems pretty fucking pissed," you say, unnaturally mumbly in comparison to your usual authoritative shout. You're trying to hint at staying with him for the say but he can be slow to catch on. Glancing at him, you notice him tilting his head slightly, analysing the meaning of your words. He pauses deliberately before speaking;

"I'm not busy, if you're that fuckin' desperate." His words are self depreciative but to you, they're a God send.


End file.
